Counting Down The Days To Go (Frerard)

The chirping of birds woke me up the next morning, the bright sunlight blinding me at first. My face still tingled from where Gerard had cupped my cheeks, and I still felt him on my lips. A smile formed on my face thinking about last night. Was it weird to be so madly in love with someone you just met as I was? There was just something about Gerard, something that was different...

I forced myself out of bed, dragging my body to the bathroom. I glanced at my shirtless reflection in the mirror for a second. Scars riddled my hips and arms, some faded, some new. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I pulled my gaze away before I could actually cry. I turned on the shower while I brushed my teeth. Again, Gerard ran through my mind. He tasted like nicotine and coffee, same as I did. I can't believe he, of all people, took my first kiss. I'm speaking about it like I'm talking about my virginity, but first kisses are just as important. I'm sure I was a kiss out of many for him, nothing special. But he was so... hot. It was the biggest thing ever for me. Still thinking of him, I stepped into the shower and felt the water wash over me.
"FRANK!" I heard my mom yell from outside my bathroom door. I jumped and knocked over a bottle. I could hear her give an annoyed sigh.
"Yes, mother?"
"Come downstairs."
"Alright, when I finish showering."
"NOW."
My heart stopped. What did I do? She didn't see me come home, did she? No, of cou--
Jamia.
I hurriedly dried myself off and changed into some pajamas. I ran downstairs to find mom and Jamia sitting at the dining room table, the latter with a shit-eating grin on her face.
"Frank, how was your date?" mom asked through gritted teeth, obviously not trying to make it seem like she was mad.
"It went well. Alicia was very sweet."
"I'm glad to hear that." Jamia nudged mom's arm. "But, Jamia told me that you came home very late last night."
"11:34 exactly." Jamia butt in, the grin on her face widening.
"We lost track of time. I'm sorry, mother." She stood up, and my heart began to race. I remembered last time she got upset with me, last time this happened.
"Jamia, please go back to your room." My sister complied and skipped back upstairs. I could see the rage in my mom's eyes. I don't understand what was so wrong about what I had done. I went on a date and came home late. What was so terrible about it? Well, I mean, I lied about the gender of my date, but that didn't matter.
"Mom, please--"
"You useless piece of shit. Your curfew it 10 o'clock, sharp. I don't think you really lost 'track of time'." What were you doing with that girl?"
"Nothing, mom-- mother. We went out to eat. It started raining. I lost track of time. I swear." I sighed, and was about to continue when a fist met my cheek, causing me to snap my head to the right. God, I didn't really do anything wrong. She just had a terrible temper.
"Don't lie to me!"
"I'm... not lying, mom."
"TELL ME THE TRUTH!"
"I'm. Not. Lying." I had learned how to stay calm in these situations from years of enduring this. She sighed, realizing I wasn't going to say anything, though I had nothing to say. I was about to turn around to get something from the kitchen when her hand was once again brought to my face. Hard. I fell to the floor, my cheek stinging.
"You'll tell me when you're ready," she hissed, "I know it." She stomped back upstairs. I didn't dare get up until I heard her door slam. I jumped to my feet and shuffled over to the pantry, grabbing a packet of instant coffee. While I was preparing it, Jamia came back downstairs. I didn't want to look at her. Why the hell did she have to tell mom?
"This wouldn't have happened if you had just told mom, Frankie," she told me, and snickered.
"Why did you tell her?" I asked, trying to stay calm.
"Why did you come home late?"
I slammed my cup down on the table. "Jamia, what did I ever do to you?" I hated this. She had always been rude and condescending to me, always wanting to get me in trouble, though I was the elder by three years.
"What do you mean?" she asked in a mocking tone. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm myself.
"Just... go away, Jamia."
"This is my house as well, I won't be going anywhere."
I gulped down the rest of my coffee and put the cup in the sink. I stomped upstairs to grab my phone and keys before going back down and slamming the front door closed as I left. I didn't realize where I was really going until I looked up from my feet to see a blue, two-story house with a bright green lawn and white picket fence. How did I remember Gerard's address? Whatever. I walked up to the door and knocked a few times. "HOLD ON!" I heard someone yell from inside. While I waited, I thought about Jamia. She had always been mom's favorite, and since dad left her favoritism has taken a toll. Mom never believes anything I say, but anything Jamia tells her is obviously an absolute truth. Soon enough, the door swung open.

I was greeted by a boy not much taller than Gerard, with straight but choppy brown hair and glasses. He stared at me with a confused expression. I realized there was probably a mark on my cheek and I covered it with my hand as discreetly as I could.
"Who is it, Mikes?" I heard a familiar voice call. My raven-haired beauty appeared behind the boy, whom smiled.
"Oh, Mikey!" Gerard said, pushing the other guy out of the way. "Mikey, this is Frank. Frank, this is Mikey, my brother." I quickly shook hands with Mikey, so that I could cover my cheek again. "Come inside."
I followed Gerard inside to find other people sitting at a table in their living room. A middle-aged woman and man, presumably his parents, a girl with black hair tied into pigtails, and two empty seats. "This is Frank," Gerard explained. "Frank, these are my parents," Gerard pointed at the middle-aged couple, "and Lindsey," he pointed at the black-haired girl.
"Nice to meet you all," I said out of courtesy. I really just wanted to sit down and talk to Gerard, not meet anyone. Gerard grabbed my arm and started guiding me upstairs, to what I presume was his room.
"Hey, I need to go back downstairs, I'm sorry," he told me once I sat down on his bed. I nodded, but in reality was kinda sad he had to go so quickly. "I'll be back in a few minutes, promise." He gave me a kiss on the forehead and hurried back downstairs.

I finally put my arm down and uncovered my cheek. I walked up to a mirror behind his door to see how my face looked. There wasn't a red mark or bruise, but you could tell the skin was, how do I put... raised. Not obvious, though. I figured while I wait, I might as well look around his room. He had popcorn-textured, black walls. The paint was peeling in some parts, so I assume it's been a while since it was last painted. Next to his unmade bed was a wooden desk covered with papers and pencils. He said he drew, right? One thing that caught my eye was a crinkled paper on the floor. Drawn and colored on the paper was a man with red hair, yellow mask, and blue jacket. Written next to the drawing in messy letters was, "Party Poison". It was really good... really. I looked to the other papers on the desk. It was wrong to look through people's things, but I couldn't resist.

GERARD'S P.O.V.

"Sorry, I didn't know he was coming over," I told Lyn-z when I came back downstairs.
"It's fine, G." She tapped her stack of papers on the table to straighten then out, and turned to me. "So, how have you been feeling lately?"
"Eh."
"Be more descriptive, Gerard," my mom said in a harsh tone, "you're not helping the woman at all."
"It's fine, Mrs. Way," Lyn-z butt in.
I sighed. "Not particularly depressed," I continued. "Not particularly ecstatic."
"He did find a girlfriend, though, so he's been pretty happy," Mikey answered for me.
"Girlfriend?" Lyn-z asked, tilting her head in confusion.
"Her name is Lindsey, too. Really pretty." I lied. I felt terrible for lying to Lyn-z of all people. I considered her a friend now, though I had only known her for a few days now.
"Does she know?" I shook my head. "You need to tell her. Don't break her heart."
She put extra stress on the "her" for some reason. Maybe she knew? No, no way she knew.
"Anyways," she continued, "I just wanted to check up on you guys. If you ever feel suicidal or depressed, please tell me. Promise?"
"Promise, Z."
"Well, I guess I should go now." She started stuffing her papers into her bag when she turned her head to me. "I need to talk to you alone, actually." She stood up and motioned to the door. I followed her out the door, and closed the door when we walked out onto the porch.
"What do you need to t--"
"You don't have a girlfriend, do you?" she asked, a smug smirk on her face.
"N-no..." I replied, blushing.
"Is Frank your boyfriend?"
My heart stopped. How did she...
"I have homosexual spidey senses." She said, as if she had read my mind. I chuckled. "It's not hard to tell who's gay and who's not when you are yourself."
"You're a lesbian?" I was genuinely surprised. Someone as pretty as her had to have men crawling all over her.
"I don't know. Not like I have a loving girlfriend of two years!" she told me, sarcastically. "How about a double date sometime?"
I nodded. "That would be pretty cool. Just don't tell my parents."
"Does he know?" I shook my head no again. "Tell him. Soon." A black car pulled up, a girl with long brown hair driving. "That's my ride. Have fun with Frank!"

I watched her climb in the car, turn to the girl and give her a peck on the cheek, and drive away before going back inside. My parents and Mikey were sitting at the couch, watching TV, completely oblivious to the fact I had come inside. I went back upstairs to see Frank. As I approached my door, I could hear someone mumbling and the sound of shuffling papers. I poked my head in to find Frank sitting on the floor, papers in hand, gawking at one. I cleared my throat. He looked up, a smile on his face. He held up the paper that so shocked him. I got bored earlier and started doodling, the result being a drawing of Frank. I didn't like it at all, but he seemed to be absolutely mesmerized by it. I felt heat swirling in my cheeks as I ran over to him and snatched the drawing out of his hands.
"Dude, that's amazing!" he told me, but I didn't pay attention. I put the drawing and some other papers in a stack and put them in a drawer. I was kind of mad about him snooping around, but I mean-- he had nothing else to do. I was mostly upset about him seeing my drawing. I'm extremely self-conscious about my art, and him seeing it is just... terrible. "Hey," he started, "I'm sorry. I... shouldn't have looked through your things." I folded my arms and stared at my desk. God, I hope he doesn't think I'm weird now. For drawing him. "Sweetheart?" he called. I smiled a bit. Him, of all people, calling me sweetheart.
"I'm not mad. I promise." He stood up and wrapped his arms around me. I immediately calmed down, my muscles relaxing, and I unfolded my arms. I turned to him, and took in his details. His cheek was slightly red, and the skin raised. There was also a slight bruise. "Frankie, what happened?" I asked, and brought my hand to his cheek. He winced a bit.
"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, looking away. I didn't want to force him to talk about if he didn't want to, but I was worried.
"Why did you come?"
"I was bored," he replied. "Can... can I stay for a few days? If it's not an inconvenience?"
"Yes, of course." Being around Frank made me happy, and the thought of him staying around for a few days is wonderful.

Notes